


Here And Now

by Edoro



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Casteism, Dirty Talk, F/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:04:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edoro/pseuds/Edoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you even actually need to study for that? I’m sure you’re already <i>way</i> ahead of the curve.” She turns her head and talks into your neck, voice dropping low and throaty so it buzzes through your thoracic cavity. Suddenly you can’t breathe. “Maybe you should put the books away.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here And Now

**Author's Note:**

> Also [here](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/17313.html?thread=35199905#t35199905) on the kinkmeme.

You needed to study but couldn’t stand to be around anyone else, so you gathered up your books and wheeled yourself to the most remote corner of the library you could find. Even this far from everyone else, the whole place still smells like other trolls, making it harder than it should be to concentrate on reading, but at least there isn’t anyone right _by_ you.

Biology’s always been able to catch your attention, though, and you have that test coming up, so it isn’t long at all before you get absorbed in your reading and everything else fades out. You barely even notice someone else coming up, until they’re leaning over the back of your chair, hands on your shoulders and hair spilling in a tumble of dark curls into your face.

“Wha - Oh, hi, Aradia.” Without thinking about it, you turn your head and breathe her in. She smells strong, sweat and skin and pheromones twining around her so thick you can almost taste them. Some lowbloods try to cover the smell up when they go into season; you have been just because otherwise your roommate _stares_ , but your matesprit categorically refuses. “How are things going?”

“Good.” She squeezes your shoulders, tilting her head to knock horns. “What about you? It’s kind of surprising to see you here! I figured you’d be holed up in your room until you stopped oozing mating scent everywhere.”

You sigh. “I would, but my roommate is sort of, an egregious asshole, and I want to spend as little time as physically possible in there until my cycle is over. I’m sort of concerned about the probability that he might actually make a pass, at me, if I continue to stay in the room with him.”

You can’t see it, but you’re completely sure she’s rolling her eyes. “Ugh, he’s a creep. They should have more private study areas, or something.” She squeezes your shoulders again and rubs inward along the back of your neck, strong fingers massaging the tenseness out of you. “Are you really worried about him trying something? Because I know a couple faculty members you could talk to about getting a new assignment if it’s really bad...”

You start to speak and then her fingers dig into a particularly subborn knot, drawing a low groan out of you. “No, it isn’t that extreme, at least not yet, although I will definitely - mmm - keep your offer in mind.”

“Don’t let him fuck with you, okay?” She kisses your temple, lips brushing soft and warm over the bare scalp just above your horn. “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Uh, no, definitely - oh, whoa, okay.” She plops herself down in your lap, wiggling a little to get comfortable, and then leans back, head cocked to smile up at you. “That’s not quite what I was expecting you to mean, but I think this basically is a okay thing, so, feel free.”

“Like you’d say no.” A little more wiggling and she’s tucked comfortably against your shoulder, legs hooked over the armrest of your chair. “What are you reading?”

“Uh.” Even though you can’t actually feel her in your lap, you know she’s _there_ , and you sure as hell can feel the rest of her body pressed against your chest. If you tilt your head just right her hair tickles your nose, and her intoxicating scent wreathes up around you. “It’s, uh. Biology.”

“Do you even actually need to study for that? I’m sure you’re already _way_ ahead of the curve.” She turns her head and talks into your neck, voice dropping low and throaty so it buzzes through your thoracic cavity. Suddenly you can’t breathe. “Maybe you should put the books away.”

“Aradia, I, this is certainly not unappreciated, and you know I think you’re very attractive, but uh, I need, I need to study, uh, I really can’t - “ You trip over your words worse than you have in sweeps, tongue thick behind your teeth, until she puts a finger over your lips. 

“You _reek_ ,” she says softly. “I mean that in the nicest way I can possibly say it. Don’t forget I’m warmer than you, Tav, I know how it feels. If you aren’t already falling over yourself to pail, you’re going to be in a couple of days, and it’s a lot easier if you don’t be stupid and try to deny yourself.”

“I, uh, don’t think your motives here are, quite as altruistic as you’re attempting to represent them to be.” But how can you even think about resisting this? It’s been like torture to just exist inside of your own skin, stomach twisting up in knots of slick unsatisfied heat, and Aradia is warm and soft and here and _offering_. “But what are you suggesting, exactly, we engage in here?”

“Hmmm.” Aradia sits up straighter, looking around. The two of you are neatly shielded from most of the rest of the library, hidden in a quiet corner behind rows of rarely disturbed shelves. “How far into your cycle are you, anyway? Are you ready to break out the buckets yet?”

At the mention of buckets you flush, face heating up. “Well, I haven’t tried, really, so I can’t say for sure? It’s been a few days since it really got going. I don’t know if I’m really at ease with the idea of engaging in full-on concupiscent relations in the library, though, it just seems like something kind of inadvisable, maybe.”

“No one’s here! If we can be quiet and get it done quick, there’s no reason to worry. It’s not like anyone’s going to come looking for you. Besides,” she adds, mouth twisting wryly, “isn’t life too short to never take any risks?”

You have serious doubts about the life-affirming properties of pailing in a public library, but you decide to keep those to yourself. As a last ditch attempt at rationality, you say, “But I don’t even have a, uh, bucket, or other kind of appropriate receptacle, or even a non-appropriate receptacle that could still kind of work. We have no receptacles, none of them.”

“ _You_ have no receptacles.” She stands up and neatly decaptchalogues a bucket. It thunks down onto the table with a distinctly plastic, hollow sound. “A lady always comes prepared.”

Persuaded, you sigh. “Fine. But how are we going to? I mean, with...” You gesture at the chair. It’s not like there’s a convenient couch around, libraries typically not being used for such activities. 

“Oh, that’s easy.” She sweeps your books off the table and grabs you around the chest, lifting you up and out of your chair. You cling to her, just barely swallowing a startled shout, unable to keep from going tense when she drops you - except the impact with the table never comes. You crane around to see that you’re floating a good two inches above it, cushioned by her psionics. “You get to just lay back and let me do all the hard work here.”

As soon as she gets properly between your legs, you grab the front of her shirt and pull her in for a kiss, reaching up to plunge your other hand into the mass of her hair. She groans appreciatively when you tug, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you in against her. You can taste the pheromones on her skin, sharp and almost bitter in her sweat. Every taste and touch drives you wilder, until you feel like you’re going to just fall apart under her. 

She keeps going just long enough to make you whine and then pulls away, working your pants open and off and lifting her skirt to step out of her own panties. Those get toed primly under the table. She grabs your hips with trembling hands and pulls your ass down flush with the edge of the table, stepping up between your spread legs.

You prop yourself up on your elbow and crane to watch. Although you can’t actually feel anything she’s doing, your bulge responds slowly to her touch, extending slowly as she strokes it. It feels good in a strange, distant kind of way, pleasure building up tight in your stomach even though you can’t feel the actual touch, and watching it is definitely exciting. Once she’s gotten your bulge out, it’s the work of a few seconds to get herself out and ready; you go a little breathless when you see it. Her bulge twines itself around yours, dwarfing it completely and practically engulfing it.

“It looks like a python,” you blurt out. “Wrapping around its prey to, uh, kill it. Wow, sorry, that probably wasn’t a very erotic thing of me to say.”

“No,” she agrees fondly, “talking about snakes killing things does not usually get your girlfriend all hot and bothered. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You grin up at her, reaching up to tug a strand of hair. “My sense of timing is just another reason, in a list of many, that you pity me.”

“It sure is.”

Foreplay is important, or so you’ve always heard, so you try to be patient, but you were ready practically ever since she came in here and you’ve been aching for it for _days_ before now, and are just all in all not in any sort of mood to wait. There’s a part of you that thinks maybe your first time pailing should be more romantic than a quickie in the library, but every other part of you that just wants it right _now_ shouts that part down.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being unduly impatient, or, dissatisfied with your performance, but I was wondering if maybe we could speed things up a bit? I believe you mentioned earlier that alacrity was, uh, the key to successfully pullohhh, oh, okay...” She deftly untangles your bulges, curling yours around one hand to hold out of the way while directing hers to your nook. It wriggles slowly in. Watching is fascinating, so much so you almost forget that it’s you being spread open around the monstrous thing.

Once her bulge is inside of you she leans down to trail kisses over your neck, nipping at your throat with just enough threat of teeth to make you shiver and bare it to her. “God, this is so dirty,” she murmurs. “Can you imagine if someone came in and saw us?”

“I’d, mm, really rather not.” The thought makes you flush cold with horror. 

She growls a little, the sound vibrating down into your chest, and begins thrusting hard enough to rock you back on the table. “They’d think we were disgusting,” she pants. “They’d think, oh, just some more lowbloods rutting like f-fucking _animals_ , how depraved.” Her voice goes all high and nasal like a highblood’s, ends of her words accruing extra syllables like they’re magnetized. “Whyever do we even let them come here?”

You wish you could wrap your legs around her. You wish you could feel the way her bulge is pounding you open, the bruises you’re going to have, the prick of her claws digging into soft flesh of your thighs. You settle for dropping your head back and moaning softly, thready and strained with the need to keep quiet, back arching as far as it can. “Well, we _are_ pailing in the library.”

“Like barkbeasts fucking in the street,” she says, head dipping to bite at the planes of your chest. “Like we can’t even h-help it, right? Not like they drag us here, nn, right when we all start go-ohh-going into season, and coop us up with each other until we, hnn, go crazy, and then act like it’s holy as hell when a hi _iigh_ blood does it but if we do it, oh, no, that’s just _nasty_. Right? You just couldn’t even wait ten minutes to go back to my block so we could pail, could you?”

The sudden tight savagery of her voice surprises you, as does how hard it turns you on. Every word cracks across your skin like a whip, leaving you shuddering with aftershocks. “Yeah, I’m basically, exactly like that thing you just said,” you whimper, voice strained and shaky, “where I couldn’t even, unnh, wait. I just needed your huge bulge in me, right now, yeah.”

“Oh, that’s _vulgar_ , Tavros, don’t be so lewd.” She says it exactly the way your roommate does, right down to the crisply disapproving click of her tongue. You’d laugh except it makes your stomach flip slowly over and squeeze all tight.

You want to keep watching. The way she moves in and out of you, bulge writhing in its own sinuous rhythm completely apart from the motion of her hips, is absolutely fascinating. Every little glimpse of slick red you get reminds you viscerally that she’s actually doing this, she’s actually buried inside of your nook _right now_. With one hand she’s caressing your limp bulge, drawing it out straight between her fingers and then curling it back around her hand again. It’s a fight to stay leaning up, though, one you lose soon enough, dropping back to stare up at the ceiling.

You can still feel her moving you and still feel her mouth on you, trailing hot kisses along your chest and stomach. You can hear her fucking you, too, a wet slap of skin on skin you’re absolutely sure is loud enough to hear across the room. Her other hand comes down and curls around your horn, pinning your head to the table, thumb rubbing firm circles in the sensitive scalp just beside its base.

“You’re so _wet_ for me. Just like a gutterblooded slut, huh? Just like a piece of rustblood trash dripping for anyone who’ll stuff a bulge in him.” She gives your horn a gentle tug, leaning up so you can see the grin stretched across her face. “You’re just a bitch in heat, aren’t you, Tav?”

The moan you give in response is entirely louder than it should be or than you meant for it to be, but you don’t have the presence of mind to care. Everything she’s saying is awful and you’re pretty sure half of it is directly quoted from your roommate, but the way she spits it out at you just makes you desperate for her. “ _Yes_ , that’s an accurate, way, of putting it, that’s what I am, yes, but let mhh-h-hh me submit that you’re the one, doing it to me, currently.”

“I’m the one _fucking_ you,” and that’s all lowblood snarl, all guttural, all the extra lingual flourishes stripped away until it’s as raw and bare as your lust-stripped nerves. “I’m the one who’s got you, mmn, spread out on a t-table in the library soaking down your legs for me. I’m the piece of rustblood trash who’s going to make you pail for me.”

You whimper frantic assent, scrabbling at the table. Your claws dig grooves in the soft wood, but you’re too far gone to worry about a little vandalism now. You’ve never really orgasmed before but you can feel it coming now, everything inside of you drawing up so achingly tight you want to scream. You have to shove your hand into your mouth and bite down until you taste blood to keep the noise in when you do come, shuddering hard enough to wrench your neck.

Aradia had the presence of mind to get the pail; she holds it under the wet join of your bodies, steady even when she spasms and spills into it. Your contribution is more of a trickle than the gush of hers, steady but meager. She gets you around the waist and tugs you forwards until she’s almost holding you on your feet, you clutching at her shoulders to keep from pitching forwards. The steady drip turns into a stream, the sound of it splashing into hers enough to make you shiver.

“I was kind of, somewhat worried that I couldn’t,” you admit while she’s cleaning the both of you up, wiping your crotch and thighs down with a rag from her sylladex. “With the whole, paralysis thing, and all.”

“I wondered.” She helps you back into your pants and chair and then crouches down to hunt for her underwear under the table. “Wouldn’t that be a shame, if you couldn’t even be a g-gutterblood s-s-slut right?” She just barely holds it together until she turns and looks at your face, and then bursts out into peals of laughter, sitting down hard. 

“You sound _just like him_ ,” you gasp out, bent nearly double and clutching at your stomach. “Oh god, just... That was unsettling, a little.”

“You loved it. Don’t even try to lie to me.” Panties found and put back on, she crawls up into your lap, splaying back exhausted against you. “That _was_ really nice, though. You were good.”

“Ha, thanks. You were more than adequate yourself.” You kiss the top of her head, wrapping your arms loosely around her. “...He has a crush on you, you know. My roommate.”

“Urrrgh, no, don’t say it. We’re going back to my room, alright? Mine at least doesn’t care if we share a ‘coon.”

You’re blissed out enough to not even care that hers also stares at you.


End file.
